This week I’m taking a break from the blog to prepare for the Thanksgiving holiday. Even as I type this, I can hear that to-do list calling my name. 

I’m happy to report that I have already checked the first item off my list: grocery shopping. Yes, it looks like I’m going to be busy.

But I’m also very blessed.

Hope you and your family have a great Thanksgiving!  

Special Note: Congratulations to Stacie Chambers and Barb Carr for winning copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul: Just Us Girls. I'll be contacting you soon!

Last week on the blog I shared a story about my friend Grace. This week I’m celebrating because that story was published in the book, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Just Us Girls. Here’s what the folks at Chicken Soup had to say about the book:

A woman’s friends are the family she picks herself. This collection of 101 touching and amusing stories celebrates all that is special about the bonds that women share with their friends - the unique spirit of female friendship.

Whether it’s about something funny or serious, our friends are the first ones we think to call. They are a constant source of support and encouragement. This book is filled with great friendship stories that you’ll love reading and sharing with your friends.

So I’ve decided to share copies of the book with my blog friends! Just leave me a comment before Monday, November 25th. Then check back on Tuesday because I'll be announcing the winners.

But wait, there’s more! If you mention the name of a friend in your comment, both you and your friend will receive a copy of the book.

Don’t forget … Christmas is coming! Wouldn’t this book make a great gift idea?

I’ll look forward to hearing about your friend!

Good luck. See you next week!

Nervous anticipation fluttered through my stomach as I ripped open the envelope. Yes! I clutched the letter triumphantly. I’m finally going to be published!

That night as I cleared the dinner table, a rush of excitement hit me. I tossed the dishcloth toward the sink and raced to the computer. “I’ve gotta’ tell Grace!” I hollered back to my husband still standing by the sink.   

I typed “Guess what!” on the email subject line. Then I paused, remembering when I first met Grace. It was an unexpected friendship, and it all began with an email.

Grace and I attended the same church for several years, but our paths never crossed. Why would they? I was a young mom; she was a grandmother. I sat in the balcony in case my fussy baby required a quick escape; she sat in the front row. My wardrobe included a handy burp cloth draped over my shoulder. She wore lovely scarves from Talbots. I couldn’t imagine what Grace and I might have in common – until the church newsletter.

As a full-time mom, the church newsletter satisfied my creative cravings. Each afternoon I tucked my babies in for naps and tiptoed to my office. Then I cranked up the baby monitor and escaped for a few hours, writing articles and designing page layouts. When the need for a new proofreader arose, the church secretary suggested I contact Grace.

I soon learned that Grace was a fabulous proofreader. But her knack for spotting a typo wasn’t the only quality I liked about her. When it came to encouraging others, Grace had a gift – and impeccable timing. I remember one morning, struggling to start an article after a sleepless night with a cranky baby.  

I plopped into my chair and stared at the computer. My mind felt as blank as the screen. I knew I shouldn’t let my lack of sleep and raging hormones dictate my disposition, but I didn’t care. How did I ever think I could write? Looking for an excuse to procrastinate, I opened an email from Grace.

Hi Sheri! I just finished reading the final copy of the newsletter. Another great job! Thank you for all the time and thought you put into it. You are one special gal!

I smiled. Maybe Grace scrutinized the newsletter with a critical eye, but she always looked for the best in me.    

In time, our email topics expanded beyond the newsletter. We chatted about marriage, realizing we both chose ambitious, professionally-driven men. We talked about motherhood. Grace offered a different perspective from friends my own age. She empathized with my struggles, but reminded me to enjoy every passing stage. We discussed our faith, our families – even our love of shopping. Then one day we realized we shared something else.  

“Imagine that,” Grace smiled, “born on the same day, only three decades apart. We should meet for lunch!”

Over the years, our birthday lunches became a tradition. We kept them simple; just getting together and exchanging cards. Except one year when I couldn’t resist a little surprise.

I stepped inside Applebee’s, scanning the busy lunch crowd. Grace waved from a table near the windows. As usual, she looked like a stylish grandmother in a ruffled cardigan and sparkly beaded necklace. I scooted into the booth, discretely placing a gift bag beside me.

“Happy birthday!” Grace reached into her leather handbag and gave me a pink envelope.

“Happy birthday.” I said, passing her gift over the table.

Grace raised an eyebrow and gave me a lighthearted “shame on you” look.

“It’s no big deal.” I fidgeted with my napkin. “I just saw it and thought of you.”

Grace drew back the tissue paper and uncovered a small stuffed teddy bear in a red cheerleading outfit.  

“You’re always so encouraging to me,” I said, hoping my unexpected gift didn’t embarrass her. “You’re a great cheerleader.”  

Grace’s blue eyes glistened as she propped the bear on the table. “Well these days I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to be a cheerleader.” She dabbed her eyes and laughed. “I can’t believe I’m seventy!”  

“Me either.” I plunked my water glass on the table. “You certainly don’t act like you’re seventy. Aren’t you supposed to dress like an old lady and drive a white Buick?” I teased. “I wish I had your wardrobe, and you drive a red corvette for heaven’s sake!”    

Grace knew I was teasing, but in some aspects I was serious. For years I had watched her, and I was impressed. It wasn’t the clothes she wore or the car she drove. It was her attitude. Even at seventy, Grace never stopped learning, never stopped growing and never stopped giving. She didn’t care for the spotlight, but was content connecting with people one-on-one in her own soft-spoken way. During a phase of life when she could easily focus on herself, she intentionally touched the lives of others.

That year I also began a new phase of life. After devoting ten years to full-time motherhood, my youngest started kindergarten. At first I felt lost. My days had revolved around three little girls for so long. Now what would I do?

 I took my first small step out of my comfort zone and signed up for a writer’s conference. Then I finally worked up the nerve to tell someone besides my mom and husband about my aspirations to write. I told Grace.

“So … how was the conference?” Grace leaned forward, resting her elbows on the restaurant table.

“I loved it,” I said without hesitation.

Grace nodded as I rambled on.

“The speakers were excellent. They shared great tips for improving my writing, and I got to meet other women who also love to write and …” I stopped for a moment, hoping my enthusiastic chattering wasn’t disturbing the stuffy-looking businessmen at a nearby table. I took a deep breath and softened my voice. “I just felt like I was right where I was supposed to be.”  

“That’s wonderful!” Grace said.

 “I know, but me? A writer?” I said. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

Grace straightened in her chair. “Apparently God thinks you do.”  

So when I learned that I would be published, I couldn’t wait to tell Grace. And when my article came out, I gave one to her. A few days later a group of ladies gathered around my dining room table.

“How exciting! What page is it on?” one lady asked, thumbing through the table of contents.

I thought for a moment, but Grace answered immediately.

“Hey, do you have time to listen to a story?” 

I can’t imagine how many times I’ve asked my mom that question. I remember coming home from junior high and reading her my stories. Even now, when I struggle with writer’s block, somehow it helps me to read it out loud. And my mom is my most loyal listener. So last week, when I asked her that question yet again, I wasn’t surprised by her answer.

“Yep, go ahead.”   

“Okay, so the ending is really rough,” I said, “I still need to tweak it.”

I cleared my throat and jumped right in. Mom listened intently to all three pages. When I reached the final paragraph, I explained my dilemma.

“See, I’m just not sure how I want to end it.”   

“Oh.” Mom sounded surprised. “I thought that was the end.”

“No, no, that’s not the end,” I said. “I still need another sentence or two. I want to make sure the reader gets my point. I want to tie the ending back to the beginning.” I rambled on and on, describing all the work still needing to be done.

Later, after hanging up the phone, I scanned through those last paragraphs again. This time I saw it differently. Maybe Mom was right.    

Suddenly I remembered something my pastor had said when describing how effective speakers end a speech. “When it comes time to finish, they don’t rehash every point all over again. They know it’s time to end, and they end it.” Then he said, “Sometimes you need to stop circling the airport and just land the plane.”

Isn’t that the truth! I think we’ve all endured speakers who didn’t quite know how to land that plane.

I think that concept works, not only for speakers and writers, but for parents as well. I know, because I tried it out on my teenager last week. We were talking about something - and I had a very important point I wanted to make. Soon I found myself rambling on and on, telling her the same thing several different ways.

Her eyes began to glaze over. I couldn’t be sure she was even still listening. Then I heard that little voice inside my head.

Okay Sheri … it's time to prepare for landing. You’ve made your point.

Whether it’s my writing or my parenting, I don’t want to keep circling the airport. I want to be effective. I want my audience to stay engaged. Instead of going in circles, I think next time I’ll try for the perfect landing.