It’s pushing 5 months, and I’m still struggling to get that rascal up and out of the pasture and back to work. There are valid reasons for that, but, make no mistake, my pony is useless these days … he's just dull, fat and lazy now.
My wonderful pony ... who used to gallop and race through my mind and emotions, motivating and inspiring me to draw and draw until I had quite a stack of illustrated and published books.
Well, what should we do with that stack of books?
My pony roared, A WEBSITE!
So I hopped on and we thundered off on a grand ride that lasted a few years. I kept on illustrating more books, and now I was writing, too … blogs and articles needed to fill up the site, because nobody likes an empty site. There must be lots of graphics and words if a website is going to be worthy. Not to mention all the posts on social media to tell the world, Come look at me!!
Thrilled as I was with my new adventure, I can’t say that the world actually sat up and noticed. But I didn’t care. I’d learned long ago that as long as I was about the business of doing the things God had designed and equipped me to do, He would take care of the results whether or not the world was impressed. And that was good enough for me.
I did get enough of a response from folks here and there, and that made it lots of fun. I was having a grand ol’ time!
By the way, if you don’t know about creative people and their “ponies”, check out my article On Being Creative. That will tell you all you need to know. If you live with or know creatives, it will explain a lot!
Anyway, I was learning how to ride my pony very well. We were charging ahead full steam with nary a thought about slowing down. I fully intended to keep on writing and drawing … until March of 2022, when the email appeared in my inbox, out of the blue …
My sister, Elizabeth, and I had been estranged from our parents for over 40 years. It was their choice, not ours. Through the years we would very occasionally check in with them: a quick phone call, maybe a card for a birthday or holiday. It never ended well, and it stopped in June of 2010 when we each got our very own personalized, certified letter telling us to stop contacting them. No more cards, no more phone calls, ever again.
We obliged, but we worried. Because, even when we made them mad, we at least knew they were alive and well. Now we wouldn’t know anything.