I didn’t know our first Write to Live workshop would open new doors, not just to teach writing, but to discover something in my heart that needs healing. Something that hurts. Sometimes God has to break through our walls to set us free. I just kind of like my walls. They make me feel safe. But I don’t want to live safe. I want to live free. And I want to write free too.

But first, let’s talk about the fun we had! I picked up Macki Smith: The Peace-Seeking Mom from Mississippi, and Alice Crider, my amazing author coach from Colorado Springs at the Sacramento airport on Wednesday and drove straight to the ocean. We spent the night in Bodega Bay, had a wonderful dinner overlooking the sea, and then Alice set her alarm for 6 am. This was a work trip after all. We wrote all morning then hit the beach where the wind hit us. The breeze was so blustery it nearly blew us off the cliff. Notice Alice’s hair in my face. This is really a foretaste of Alice and me teaching the workshop together. Haha! I feel safe with Alice covering me.

“I think it’s too windy to walk down to the beach,” Alice said on the cliff, so we agreed to drive to San Francisco three hours south of Bodega Bay for some sightseeing. I warned Macki and Alice that San Fran isn’t as safe and clean as it used to be. I haven’t been there in five years because our last trip to the city was scary.

“How far is Lake Tahoe,” Macki asked. “Why don’t you google it?” I said, trying to figure out which highway to take to San Francisco. We were just going to drive over the Golden Gate Bridge, cruise around the city in the safety of our car and return by way of the Bay Bridge. “It’s three and a half hours to Tahoe,” Macki announced. “Do you want to see Lake Tahoe?” I asked. A big smile lit Macki’s pretty face so I turned the car around at the next exit. “We’re going on an adventure. Ocean to mountains in one day,” I proclaimed, excited to show them California.

A few hours later, when it began snowing, and I haven’t driven in snow for years, I wasn’t feeling nearly as confident. Colorado Alice assured me it was spring snow, easy to drive in. “Okay, but if it gets worse, you’re driving,” I told Alice with big trucks passing us now. Before the snow, I was passing these big trucks. But the snowfall in Squaw Valley was magical once we got there.

We had a wonderful dinner and then reserved a time to sit in an outdoor hot tub in the village. We hadn’t been able to visit the hot tub at our hotel in Bodega Bay because a happy group of folks would not get out of the tub all night long, so we went to bed a little disappointed at the ocean. Public hot tubs have been closed since Covid hit and we were excited that they were open again along with the restaurants.

But there was a bit of a problem. The hot tub was on a different floor than our room, down several endless hallways to the outside of the sprawling four-story hotel building. This is Olympic Village. Built for the 1960 Olympic Winter Games. We were not prepared for bathing suits and beanies in the snow, but made a mad dash to the hot tub, hoping not to see anyone on our way. Because of Covid, the hotel was pretty quiet.

At the elevator doors, we were ready to rush in to hide in the elevator, when the doors opened and two twenty-something ski guys in full snow gear holding their skis and poles stood there gawking at us. I’m not sure who was more surprised. The ski guys or us. “We’ll wait for the next elevator,” We sheepishly said, and when the elevator doors closed, Macki and I fell apart laughing. Alice didn’t see their shocked faces so didn’t find it nearly as funny. I do not want to embarrass anyone, so I’m doing that thing the news does, covering faces for privacy in the next photo.

Only one of us was wise enough to bring a robe on the trip. We also forgot to bring towels to the hot tub. Unfortunately, it was also the coldest hot tub I’ve ever been in as it snowed on our heads. But we were determined to enjoy the moment and left the tub freezing a half-hour later. A half-hour was our time slot. We dashed back into the building and down several hallways without our masks, Uggs, and coats on because we didn’t want to get everything all wet. I’m grateful we didn’t pass anyone on the gallop back to our room dripping water liked soaked horses.

After recovering in front of the fireplace after shivering in the hot tub, we worked for a few hours helping each other with our writing projects before bed. Alice set her alarm for 6 am again, and we worked a bit before hitting the road to the lake. The snow had cleared and the day was crystal bright, still windy, but so beautiful Friday morning. I think Lake Tahoe is one of the finest places in the world. I’ve seen the lake a thousand times and it still stuns me with its deep clear many shades of blue waters surrounded by magnificent mountains.

We made it home in time that afternoon to get ready for our Write to Live workshop at Munger’s Family Vineyard. I didn’t know what to expect since I’ve never helped teach a writing workshop before, but the event turned out fantastic. Judy Gordon Morrow arrived that evening to help us with a dozen attendees eager to discover their writer’s voice. Munger’s winery was a perfect venue and the writers were able to social distance at their own little tables.

During the writing exercises, I decided to really dive in and experience the moment with everyone else. Alice led us in a brain dump. For fifteen minutes we wrote down all the things we think about the most. At the top of my list was God. My kids came next. And then my WIP. A WIP is a work in progress, the latest novel I’m wrestling to finish right now. There were at least twenty things listed in my brain dump. “Now circle three things you think about the most,” Alice instructed. Of course, I circled God because I think about God all the time. I catch myself praying even when I don’t mean to pray.

“Now write about one of the three things you circled.” I can’t remember if we wrote for another fifteen minutes or a half-hour. I’d finished a glass of wine and was feeling relaxed and happy when I started writing about God. Within ten minutes my throat grew tight and my eyes swam in tears. Alice said not to let yourself stop and think about it. Just keep writing. That went great until I found myself scribbling in my notebook, “I don’t really trust you. I want to run to you and yet run away from you. I think of you and my husband in so many of the same ways. You both have the power to crush me. You both are my protector. My safe place but you are not safe. You are a danger to my heart…”

I stopped writing and stared at my empty wine glass. I shouldn’t have drunk the wine. Shouldn’t have let my guard down. I’m here to teach, not to cry. Not to dig into my trust issues. I blinked hard and looked around. The sun had set and it was getting a little cold.

Danny and Stacy Munger, the winery’s wonderful owners, came and lit the heater lamps. Something about the warm lamps loosened the lump in my throat and cleared my eyes. The woman sitting next to me whispered she had a revelation too about something important to her. There was grief in her eyes. And hope.

It was happening. We were writing to heal. And writing to live.

Did I resolve my trust issues with God that night? No, but at least I can no longer say, Oh, I trust God, it’s all good. Because I really don’t. Not all the way. I thought I did until this gut-wrenching year of Covid and death and so many other things coming undone. I wear my grandson Benjamin’s ashes in a little heart-shaped urn around my neck and whenever I see a baby about his age, I feel wounded by God. It’s been a year of shaking and breaking.

I also realized during this writing exercise that I want to trust my husband more. I desperately love Scott but he has hurt me before. Okay, I’m an elephant. It was a long time ago. Before we married, but I’m afraid he will hurt me again. So I have a few walls left with Scott. They are old, crumbling walls, but they are there. Just like I have walls with God.

I didn’t expect the Lord to break through one of these walls at the Write to Live workshop but He did. I’m often running so fast trying to keep up with my life that I rarely sit down and really open myself to what’s going on inside of me. Now I need to process what’s going on inside of me. Great! Not really great. I’m being sarcastic. Writing helps me discover things but now what should I do?

I will pray. And read the Bible. And I’m hoping my friend, Allen Arnold’s new book Chaos Can’t will grant me some insight into the shaking and breaking. Allen offered to send his book: The Story of With, to gift to the attendees but I forgot to let Allen know the date of the retreat, and how many would be coming. I was waiting to know the number of attendees, which didn’t work out so well, since people signed up until the day of the workshop.

I’m sure many people live like I do. Putting out one fire at a time raging in their lives. I stomp on the most pressing fire each day, and everything else has to wait. I took too long to let Allen know where to send his books. So sorry! But I did order Allen’s new book Chaos Can’t in time to give it away at the workshop, along with a few of my Farming Grace memoirs. It was fun to do a couple of drawings as people grabbed a snack or a glass of wine between writing exercises.

It really was a special night. And I’m more convinced than ever that you can write to heal and write to live. We are hoping to do more of these Write to Live workshops in the future. We’re trying to plan one right now in Mississippi in Macki’s hometown come October. I’m also hoping to hold another one at Munger’s Winery since a number of people have contacted me asking us to do it again since they couldn’t make the first workshop.

It’s really fun to discover something new. And to offer a service people find helpful and good. Speaking engagements tend to give me a stomach ache, but this writing workshop was right up my row of peaches. And God showed up. That to me is everything, even though God moments don’t feel safe and comfortable. They feel dangerous to me. But at the end of the danger, I always find a higher place to stand with God, so I keep climbing. Sometimes it’s clinging and climbing but there’s always a better view farther up.

It also was delightful to get to know Macki and Alice better. We’ve done several writing retreats together now, and our zoom class every Monday night for several years, but being in each other’s presence you get real. Macki and I discovered our cowboy boots and sunglasses practically match. So much so that Macki accidentally snatched my sunglasses Friday night at the workshop because she thought they were hers. And we are writing up some betrothal papers so we can marry Macki’s oldest daughter to one of my youngest sons because we want to be family. We also have the same water trough swimming pool in our backyard. Mine is full of boys. Macki says hers is full of frogs. Now her girls won’t use it but they have plenty of tadpoles so that’s fun.

On Sunday morning I drove Macki to the airport under a full moon and then returned to grab Alice and take her to the airport at sunrise. I think I did a good job wearing us all out in my old suburban. We spent more time in the car than anywhere else. On my second drive home from the airport, I was able to make it to church. Judy Gordon Morrow had spent the night and celebrated the Palm Sunday service with us. The funny thing is Judy and I met at a Palm Sunday service at Mount Hermon Writers’ Conference where I also met Allen Arnold years ago. So Palm Sunday with Judy at church felt like a wink from God with Mount Hermon’s Writer’s conference no longer happening. So sad! Covid has closed so many things we’ve loved. But God is always in the business of doing something new. The one thing we can count on is things change.

I need to change. I need to deal with my trust issues I discovered at the workshop. I’m sure God will help me see He is warm and light and full of new life. I really can trust Him.

I hope.