Category: Uncategorized

What the World Needs Now

  hearts 001Picture this. You’re in Starbucks, waiting for your mocha and in the corner of the coffee shop you see a young woman with her elbows on her table and her head in her hands. Her phone sits next to her upturned arms. She flicks away a tear and shakes her head subtly. It’s obvious she’s dealing with a difficult situation and she’s alone. People are brushing past her, not bothering to notice how sad she is. But you notice. You don’t know her and she doesn’t know you, but as your name is called and you take your cup, you reach into your purse or pocket. You walk past her table and silently place a heart-stitched pillow, no bigger than a cracker, by her phone. Maybe you touch her shoulder as you walk away, maybe you just leave her with her eyes closed as you walk away, but you know when she opens them, she will see the little heart pillow and she will know she’s not alone. Someone saw her hurting heart. Someone noticed.

This may or may not have ever happened, but it probably will someday because those little pillows really do exist. And so do people like the woman in the coffee shop.

The hearts are made by a dear friend of mine, Debby Thompson, and they are the tangible evidence of her labor of love called A Little Love For You. At first glance, Debby is a lovely soul who works in human resources, adores her husband Sport and adult daughter Nicole, and sews beautiful quilts. But get to know Debby and you’ll soon find she is very much the kind of person to leave a little fabric heart to someone who needs reassurance that life is still beautiful, despite its hard days.

For nearly a year, she’s been stitching the hearts and giving them away.

Sometimes she will press them into the hand of the harried checker who was treated brusquely by the customer before her. Sometimes she will leave them in a public place to be found by someone she will likely never meet. Sometimes she will give one to a good friend or a neighbor. Sometimes she will hand one to a hurting stranger.

hearts 005

Debby and her heart pillows. All of the A Little Love for You hearts are hand-stitched.

Debby was inspired by her daughter Nicole Shepard’s involvement with More Love Letters; an organization of more than twenty thousand people from nearly fifty countries who leave love letters for the taking just about anywhere, and who also mail letters of love to strangers in need of encouragement.

The idea that people could stumble upon something positive in their day, especially if they are facing a difficult path, moved her.

“But I’m not a writer,” she said.  “I couldn’t see myself writing a note. But I love to sew.”

This led her to create her first pillow; a muslin pouf that fits in your palm, hand-stitched with a heart on one side and a verse reference from the New Testament and the words “A Little Love for You” on the other. If you ask her where she came up with the design, she will tell you it’s more like it was given to her.

“I don’t remember sitting down to draw a heart or coming up with the size of the stitches,” Debby said. “There was no conscious process. All of the sudden I just had all these pillows. I think God just gave it to me.”

She hand-wrote “A Little Love for You” on those first creations and tucked them in her purse to give out or leave as the occasion presented itself. But she didn’t have a website yet. And the verse she originally chose to reference, John 3:16, didn’t explain the pillow’s purpose. Nicole suggested creating a website and including the address on the back of the pillow. This would allow people who found one to discover who made it, why it was left to be found, and what the hope was for the finder.

Nicole designed the  back to a stamped message to make production easier and Debby replaced the verse reference with a powerfully simple directive from 2 Corinthians 16:14: Do everything in love.

“I wanted a scripture that really represented the intention behind the pillow, and that anyone could relate to, regardless of their belief system,” she said. “For people who don’t know the Bible, for them to know that that verse is in there, that can be very powerful for them.”

At the start of 2013, Debby challenged herself to give one away every day. She didn’t tell anyone she was making the hearts and no one else knew either.

“I was only leaving them to be found, which is not as easy as it sounds. I’m not a sneaky person.”

debbyandnicole

Debby (above) and her daughter, Nicole Shepard. Nicole, a graphic designer, helped Debby create the A Little Love For You website.

Then she shared with a friend what she was doing and the friend mused aloud what it might be like to actually hand them to people. The friend said she had recently been at Target and saw a frazzled young mother trying to deal with a toddler in full meltdown mode.

“My friend said she would have loved to have had one of the pillows to press into that mother’s hand and tell her it’s going to be okay,” Debby said.

She shared her vision for the pillows with a few more people, all of whom wanted some of her hearts to give out. She got an idea to do something big for Valentine’s Day.

Gathering seven friends together, they set out to make ten hearts each so that on Valentine’s Day they would distribute seventy of the little love pillows. Then one of the pastors at her church asked if she could have twenty-five to hand out to a MOPS group she was speaking to on Valentine’s Day. The little sewing group set out to make one hundred pillows. And all were given out on Valentine’s Day. Some were left in public places, and some were given directly to someone who needed an extra dose of love on a day many people can feel left out.

Not long after the big Valentine’s Day event, Debby got her first email from someone who had been given a heart, then visited the website and left a response.

“I found a hand sewn heart. It had a bible verse on it. It was the singular Valentine I received. I would like to thank the geniuses that found a way to include the lonely people.”
-Keith

In fact, finders who visit the site can click on the Find One? link where this message awaits them:

It was intended for you…

We hope finding this little pillow brightened your day and let you feel a little love. It was intended especially for you. It may have been handed to you or you may have found it sitting on a shelf somewhere. We don’t believe in coincidences. We believe in a God who loves you and works through people like us to remind you. Please email us your story (pictures are always welcome!)

Has anyone ever refused to take a heart offered to them?

“I don’t really give them a chance to say no,” Debby said with a laugh.  She doesn’t engage in a conversation, she just hands them the heart with perhaps just a word of encouragement. (Usually, “Here’s a little love for you,”) If a conversation follows, it’s because the recipient starts one.

To date no one has refused.

Quite the contrary, actually. Most people are so taken aback, they are often wordless with wonder at such a random act of kindness.

Debby smiles at the notion she’s doing something amazing. Love and kindness really shouldn’t so shocking, she said.

That it is, is proof that we need more of both.

cutoutIf you want to be a part of the A Little Love For You movement locally, you join Debby and her ALL4U seamstresses at a special Little Love Party, August 17 at the Church at Rancho Bernardo, 11740 Bernardo Plaza Ct  San Diego, 92128 from 2 to 5 PM in Room 21. At this event Nicole will be hosting a letter-writing party for More Love Letters and Debby will be orchestrating a sewing party for A Little Love For You. She is quick to add you don’t have to sew or even like to sew. If you can fray edges by simply pulling threads, she can use you.

You can participate by either writing love letters, sewing pillows or both. Ages 10+ welcome! Please RSVP to Nicole Shepard at nicole@thechurchatrb.org if you’d like to take part.

If you’re reading this from afar, I hope you will check out the A Little Love for You website and consider what your heart says to you when you visit.

Life can be hard, love is what softens the edges.

 

 

 

 

 

I do not eat them, Sam-I-Am

samWhen you’re a little kid and the vast world of culinary delights stretches before you like a wilderness of unexplored territory, it’s understandable that your untrained palate might go a little rebellious from time to time. There were a lot of things I didn’t like when I was little that I absolutely love now, like spinach, eggplant, lima beans. But there are some things that I didn’t like when I was a kid and I still don’t like them. It’s a short list, but I am sharing it here in hopes that you will share yours. I was inspired to post this confession after reading this guest post on Food Riot, where the author shares her shameful, shameful list of things she does not like. (Poor thing. she does not like avocados or cilantro or pickles or eggs or sushi or macarons.)

So here’s my list. At least the ones I can think of off the top of my head.

MAYONNAISE: Ick.  I’ve never liked mayo. Ever. I can eat it mixed up in tuna fish or egg salad but only if the Greek yogurt is all gone. But if it’s peeking out of a bun or from between two slices of bread, I’m a goner. There’s just comething about its look and consistency that makes me dry heave. You know the stuff that pops out of a zit when you squeeze it? That stuff is mayonnaise. Gross.

CIRCUS PEANUTS: The very thought of them sets my teeth on edge. Like the scraping of Styrofoam on metal. Nails on chalkboard. Witch in boiling oil.  Even as I type this my shoulders are shimmying in disgust.

BLACK LICORICE: Igood and p just don’t like black licorice. If nerve gas had a taste, this would be it. That Barbie pink and white coating on a certain kind of candy masquerading as Yum & Yummy  is a despicable lie to cover up the gutter trash taste of the licorice.  The inventor should be thrashed and forced to write letters of apology to children everywhere who thought pink and white should taste like cotton candy.

INSTANT RICE: Either do rice right or serve crushed up Fritos instead, You don’t make rice in a minute. Rice takes 20 minutes. Twenty. The confetti that poses for rice in any kind of rice-in-an-instant product would be better suited for kindergarten craft projects.

CHEESE FOOD: Don;t even get me started on cheese that is not cheese. I have never bought a slab or jar or can of cheese food and I never shall. I  also don’t buy psuedocheese wrapped in individual plastic wrappers.  Real cheese is the stuff of legends and fables and happy times with crackers and fruit and good company. I can’t abide the fake stuff.

So there it is. The stuff  I don’t like.

I shared mine. What are yours?

 

The one I didn’t see coming

sdba2Last weekend as I getting ready to attend the San Diego Book Awards I was thinking how ironic it was that I was able to go this year (the last two years there had been major family events on the same evening) when I hadn’t finaled , since the last two years when I couldn’t go, I had. Still, I was happy to attend and cheer on my good friend, Sally John, who had finaled in the General Fiction category.  So there she and I were, sitting at the awards ceremony with her dear husband, Tim, watching and waiting for her category to come up. I was ready to hoot and holler for her, elegantly so because I was wearing a nice dress and heels, but the award went to one of the other three finalists. She and I both know that happens in award ceremonies; and she has learned as I have, that it really is enough to be nominated in a category that can have a dozen or dozens of contenders.

And then out of the blue I hear my name being read as one of the four finalists in the Young Adult category for THE GIRL IN THE GLASS. Before I can mentally grasp that fact, I am announced as the winner and therefore expected to rise, walk in the pointy toed shoes that are now hurting my feet, accept the award and say a few words.

You know how sometsdba3imes a person will say, when an accepting award, that they really had no idea that they would win and had prepared nothing to say? I can tell you they are quite easily telling you the the truth. I managed to thank my dear high school English teacher, Frank Barone, who told me almost forty years ago that I could write and therefore should do so and never stop, and I might have mumbled a few other things.  I wanted to say a line from Christmas Vacation (“I couldn’t have been more surprised if I had woken up with my head sewn to the carpet”) but didn’t. That line is only funny if you’ve seen the movie a jillion times.

My hands were shaking as I held the mike, which doesn’t often happen any more when I do public speaking. I think I was that afraid someone would realize a horrible mistake had been made and of course I wasn’t the real winner.  There had probably been  an email telling me I had been nominated and which my spam folder had snatched away like spam folders like to do.  And I wouldn’t have guessed that GIRL would have finaled in the Young Adult category since I wrote it for the general market. But what I like about this surprising award is that this book could have only stood out as Young Adult worthy if the character Nora Orsini, who is the only young adult in the story, came across as completely compelling. She had the fewest words of anybody in the story. To have won the heasdbarts of the YA judges means a lot to me. Because it means Nora became alive to them, just like I hope and dream and sweat that every character will.

So thank you, thank you, thank you San Diego Book Awards for a wonderful jolt that affirmed me as a writer who wants her stories to resonate beyond the page.

The moral of the story? Be prepared for anything. You never know when you’re going to be glad you wore your Big Girl shoes.

Here’s to the future

penguinThis morning I signed my name on the dotted line of a new adventure in my writing career. After several months of behind-the-curtain work, I am thrilled to share with you that my next two  novels will be with Penguin/NAL.  The first one,  A FALL OF MARIGOLDS, will hit bookstore shelves in February 2014.

I am also so happy to say this book will be a blend of historical and contemporary story-lines, just like my last five; a style that  I’ve come to feel very much at home with.

The move is a happy and bittersweet one. I’ve had a wonderful experience with my last publishing house and have had the privilege of working with an amazingly gifted editor. But I feel that each step I’ve taken on this journey– since my very first contract when I was unagented and unknown — has been to broaden my vision for the reader I am writing for.  To think bigger. To reach farther. To find those readers who are looking for the kind of story I like to tell.  My new editor at Penguin is also superbly intuitive and wise and I am already incredibly grateful for her insights on A FALL OF MARIGOLDS.  And the best part is, I am still me. Changing houses does not mean I have to change who I am or how I craft a story.

I’ve always approached the faith element of my novels with a subtle hand, by intention. I liken my style to the Book of Esther, an amazing clutch of pages  in the Old Testament where the faith element is as understated as you will ever see it in the Bible. It’s so subtle that God is never mentioned, and yet the story is an amazing one, full of the moralistic plot elements that make for a memorable story peopled with empathetic characters. I write for the reader who wants that kind of story.

May I just whet your appetite with a few of the details of A FALL OF MARIGOLDS? The historical thread is this: It’s 1911 and Clara Wood is at last living the New York City life that she’s always wanted. She is not expecting to fall in love with Edward Brim on her first day at her new job as a nurse, nor is she ready for that love to be shattered when Edward is one of the dozens who jump to their deaths in the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire only two weeks later. She exiles herself to a place where the life she might’ve had can hang suspended in the in-between world that is Ellis Island’s immigrant hospital. Clara meets Andrew Gwynn, a Welsh immigrant whose new bride Lily – a woman he barely knew before marrying her – died of scarlet fever aboard ship. Clara feels a kinship within their common grief as both she and Andrew loved and lost someone they’d known for mere days. While nursing Andrew back to health, Clara learns Lily is not who Andrew thought she was. Now Clara must decide if she will tell Andrew the truth or let him grieve something he never truly had. The contemporary framing is one hundred years later.  It’s the year 2011 and it’s mere days before the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Taryn Michaels, a single mother who was made a widow that terrible day, is reunited with a century-old scarf that had been handed to her minutes before the first plane hit the World Trade Center, a scarf that at one time belonged to an Ellis Island immigrant whose wife died aboard the ship that brought him to America…

The story is not about what it is like to lose someone you love; it’s about trusting in love enough to risk embracing it again after grief.  Loss makes us careful. It can also make us fearful.  Fear and love just don’t belong together. Too much of one and the other begins to disappear. I will be sharing more about what I have been learning about this theme, the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, 9/11, and  Ellis Island during the writing of this book as the months progress. In the meantime I hope you will be as looking forward to A FALL OF MARIGOLDS as I am to share it with you.

Here’s to the future!

 

Letters in the equation

mathI read with interest an op-ed  piece in this morning’s paper, written by a 20-something man who has not been able to pass an algebra class; not in high school and not in college. He can pass other classes with admirable grades – even geometry – but not the class that has the the audacity to mix letters with numbers. To graduate from high school, his administrators counted his accounting class, which he passed, as an algebra equivalent since he could not graduate without it. But in community college, algebra still haunted him like the zombie that can’t be stopped.  He wrote: “Now I’ve finally dropped out, and am supporting myself through writing…I would love to learn more about art, philosophy, literature, and history in a college setting. But math requirements will prevent that. Should they?”

I can relate to this guy. Maybe a lot of writers and artistic thinkers can. Math was never my strong suit. I got my first “D” ever in Algebra in high school.  First ever. It was demoralizing. I didn’t do D’s. I had a great GPA, was on the honor roll, was highly motivated, and I really gave it my best.  I retook the class in summer school in a desperate attempt to rid that blemish from my record. I am happy to say that with a better teacher (she used colored chalk and made up stories about the letters and numbers…) I got an A. My GPA was restored and so was my validation as a contributing member of society.  But then I took the SAT. You can probably guess how I did on the math component.  I sweated all through bonehead algebra my freshman year of college. I knew I HAD to pass it to graduate with any kind of degree. Any kind.  I did pass that class, but that’s not the point.

What if I hadn’t? Sure, I could have hired a tutor, taken it again, taken it three times if necessary. But why do we place such inordinate value on algebra, as if it is the bouncer at the door of all career aspirations?  And sure, this guy can learn what he wants by taking classes online, reading, attending lectures, etc. But what he wanted was a college education.

Some of us just aren’t wired to think algebraically. But we still think. We can still balance a check book, and figure out percentages on after-Christmas sales, do our own taxes, and estimate how many gallons of paint to buy to freshen up the living room.

When I look at letters of the alphabet, I don’t see quadratic equations. I see letters that want to become words that want to become a story.

Algebra and all her many cousins are great to have around. I am thankful there are people like my beautiful niece who is on her way to graduate school after graduating sum cum laude with an applied mathematics degree. Wise mathematicians keep the world spinning.

And people like me write the stories that keep the world interesting… That guy should be able to stay in college.

My two cents.

Or should I say my 2(3x – 7) + 4 (3 x + 2) = 6 (5 x + 9 ) + 3 cents

 

Malawi and my first book!

fundraiser2Did you ever want to get your hands on an out-of-print book AND help toward a great cause at the same time?? Of course you have! I have great news for you!  If you very much wish you could 1. get a signed copy of my very first book,  WHY THE SKY IS BLUE, now out of print, hard to find, and not yet available on e-book (I’m working on that…) and 2. help fund a much-needed mission trip to Malawi, keep reading.

I am giving away a lovely gift basket worth $75 and which includes a signed, first-edition copy of Why the Sky is Blue, while I help my youngest son, Eric, a sophomore at San Diego State University,  raise funds for a mission trip this July to Malawi.  Inside the basket are:

  • a signed copy of Why the Sky is Blue
  • a lovely powder-blue scarf
  • blueberry preserves
  • wildflower seeds
  • hydrangea scented luxury soap
  • Green and Blacks organic milk chocolate
  • a Barnes and Noble gift card worth $30

ericmalawiCool, right? For every $25 you donate toward Eric’s trip to Malawi, you get a chance to win this awesome basket of loveliness. Donate $25 and you get one chance; $100 and you get four chances. And of course any amount is helpful. Here’s Eric in his own words regarding this mission trip:  “Recently, God has laid it on my heart to do something beyond myself and I believe He is guiding me to Malawi. There, my team and I will be hosting a three-day leadership conference at our sister church, Flood Malawi,  in order to educate, equip and empower the emerging generation of leaders so they can be active in their communities and help Malawi thrive.”

It’s super easy to give online. Flood Church has a donation page set up right here:  www.stayclassy.org/ericmeissner.

After you donate and get your receipt from Flood Church, just forward it to me and I will put you in the running. (send to susanlmeissner[at]cox[dot]net). Your receipt will be numbered in the order I receive it. I will run the drive through May 5, 2013 and then on Monday morning, May 6, I will let random.org pick a number.  Sorry to say this drawing is limited to U.S. residents.

And guess what?? There will be a door prize of  “A Window to the World,” (my second book!) drawn from those who don’t win the big prize but give $50 or more.

Your donation is tax deductible and the giving site is fully secure. You can check out Flood Church here.

Thanks for considering being a part of this and good luck!

 

 

Je suis une pomme

appleOnce upon a time, my husband and I were in a little bistro in Brugges, Belgium. Our waiter kindly took pity on our very sad attempts to say anything in French to him and began speaking quite congenially in English. He helped us order from the all-French menu and then proceeded to help the next couple over who didn’t speak French either. They spoke German. After very handily assisting them in their native language he looked up as a third couple walked into the bistro. They said “Good evening” or maybe it was “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” – we didn’t really know. It was Dutch, we could tell that much. Our waiter switched to Dutch, seated them and then scurried into the kitchen to fetch us all water glasses.

So thoroughly impressed with his easy management of four languages I told him he should be working for the UN. He laughed, thinking I was making a funny joke. I was dead serious. He told me it’s not so strange for Europeans to speak more than one language, especially if you serve the public. Then he told us a little joke. If you’re trilingual, you speak three languages. If you’re bilingual you speak two languages. What are you if you speak one language? The answer: American.

I took three years of Spanish in high school, but that didn’t make me bilingual by a long shot. I admit I’ve been jealous of people who can have two or three languages spinning in their heads at all times. And I’ve lamented that there isn’t the time nor the resources to change the fact that there is only one spinning in mine.  Rosetta Stone looks super cool, but it’s a bit of an investment.

But Number Two son, Josh, recently found a language tutoring site that it completely free. He’s been on it for a month and is learning three languages at once just because he can. Italian, French, and German. After much cajoling he set me up on Duolingo to learn French with him. It only takes a few minutes a day and again, it’s free.

You can learn at your own pace but the program does send you an email reminder every day so that you don’t forget. I highly recommend it.

And just for the record, I do know that I am not an apple.  I was just having some fun with you.  Je suis une femme.

Go for it.

 

 

 

These shelves should be full of novels…

535710_406980372734016_501824011_nIs this not the most awesome library ever? Even the ceiling is pretty. And look at that tendril of a staircase, as lovely as a curling lock of hair. I just want to import the whole room into my house. (A pox on anyone who dares to say, “But where would you put it? Details, schmetails).

I have to say, though, that there is one thing about this library that makes me shake my head in frustration. In lament. In grumpyness.

It’s a law library.

Not that there’s anything wrong with books on law. They are helpful, exhausting tomes.

It just seems like there is a lot of Wow here lavished on books that aren’t novels.

This law library is in Munich if you care to know. Book Riot says it is located at “Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall), a soaring, neo-Gothic confection built at the close of the nineteenth century.” That might be the most yummy word ever to describe a beautiful room filled with books: a confection. Where’s my napkin? I am drooling.

I want to go here someday, sneak in a heady mug of Tchibo,  sit in one of those wooden chairs, soak in all the wonder and crack open the pages of a MY kind of book.

Care to join me?