Be Proud of Your Accomplishments

Back in mid June of this year, I decided that I had an itching to be more creative. At the time I was working a graphic design job that I was more than capable of doing and it wasn't challenging me or stretching my abilities much, but it payed and I was complacent because I could in turn pay rent. But there was that itch, I wasn't fulfilled and I wanted more.

I've always been silly, strange and creative, I've doodled, and written little stories and put on elaborately choreographed interpretive dances. (Thank you Pocahontas and Little Mermaid for bringing out the best interpretive dances...)

So I had this thought. Maybe I'll write a story, see if that helps me feel creative again. So I dug up this list of book ideas that I had generated over the years, and poured over it. Seeing if anything sounded fun, and what perked my creative juices.

So I started to write.

I wrote a lot, I was averaging over a thousand words a week. And considering I was also working and doing all sorts of other activities, I was rather proud of myself. Writing continued and at the end of my first month I had 27,000 words. This was huge to me, I'd never written anything so long.

Three months accumulated and I was at 91,000 words, that's roughly 230 pages. :)

The story has been so fun to write and has evolved into something much longer and more exciting that I thought. Yesterday I finished 1/3 of the story, the first "act" if you will; and I've written 127,659 words. That's 290ish pages, (8.5"x11") Roughly a bit longer than Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban which sits at 107,253 words.

This is my first draft, and I know there will be lots of editing and some re-writing and cutting, but I'm ecstatic. Golly this is fun!

Be Sad Sometimes too...

I had intended to write on this blog fairly often, but circumstances have a way of making the best of intentions, especially the less important ones, moot. Two weeks ago, I received a phone call from my sister telling me that my mom had been found dead at home by my brother.

It wasn't something any of us expected. She had dealt with many hard things in her life: A broken back, the death of my father, fibromyalgia, a tumor in her pituitary, hormone replacement therapy following the removal of that tumor, and the daily stress of raising six kids all on her own. But despite all this, we weren't ready for such an event, and had no prior reason to assume mom would pass away.

My mom was only 55, and would have turned 56 at the end of November this year... After loosing my dad at the age of four, loosing my mom at 26, feels really unjust. The world has a way of making you feel completely forgotten. However! The Lord has a way of making you feel very much remembered.

I've been so blessed.

Let me count the ways... Prior to this last couple months, I lived with my sister Melisa for nearly 3 years. A housing endeavor some were advising against us making, but I know that it was supposed to happen. God wanted me and my sister Melisa to develop a relationship which couldn't and hadn't
been fostered at all until that point. With a five year span between us Melisa had always left the next stage of school before I was able to enter it to join her. (i.e. Moving out to collage as I moved into high school.)

I could not have handled all that's happened recently, without that friendship. See, god knows things.

I've also been blessed to have such an amazing family: Five amazing siblings, two awesome sister-in-laws, one fantastic brother-in-law; and let's not forget my supremely-much-cuter-than-yours nephew. Filling up the ranks of the amazing army of family I have are my extensive Boekweg relations and my Todd side of the family.

No matter what I say, I'm extremely grateful for them. Not to mention the countless ward members, friends, and distant-people-I-didn't-even-know-existed, who have helped with food and funeral stuff.

Thank you!

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Even so, I'm still not really completely ready to deal with the world, and all the daily problems that come from living and working, and maintaining an existence. I'm numb, and a bit depressed. And I have on many occasions these past couple weeks; wished that I could tattoo the phrase, "No, I'm not okay!" across my forehead to divert the frequently posed question of "how are you doing?".

I'm not doing okay, but I will...

In the wake of my mom's passing, I've been writing. The following is another poem I've written in tribute to my mom:


Missing Mom: (a poem)

I was so young, and you seemed so old,
I lost so much then, which only death could withhold.

You seemed so strong, as I cried out my tears,
For you it was a nightmare, a horror, your fears.

My grief was short, I then too young to know,
That dad was gone, and the effect that would grow.

I resented later, my father passed on,
Of things never said, of should-have's now gone.

You were alone now, with little ones... six,
You hid all the sorrow, that pain which inflicts.

I have so say, I'm left quite in awe,
Of everything you've done, In spite of it all.

You kept trudging on, thru pain of your own,
Kissing scraped knees, no inkling you'd shown.

And even when things, would turn to the worst,
I was never aware of that more, of which you nursed.

In all that you suffered, I scarcely can say,
You've found release now, yet how I dreaded this day.

My heart is braking, it's echoing my hurt,
You've gone and joined him, I'm acutely alert.

Twenty years plus, you've suffered the loss,
Pressed on when even, the days seemed a wash.

Now that I'm older, I'm feeling the sorrow,
The emptiness, pain, suppressed till tomorrow.

Lightened by thought, of understanding one thing,
You've mended a union, death no more has a sting.

Your finally with him, and your pain gone away.
No more can it cling, nevermore can it stay.

If freedom is life, then in death did you find,
That peace and that rest, that soundness of mind.

I love you mom, And a day won't go by,
Where I'm not thinking of you, or even may cry.

I miss you deep down, and I will evermore.
A bond between hearts, an un-quenching outpour.


All Rights Reserved, Elyse Todd, 2014.