I’m sure just about everyone could answer “yes.”
Yet, when I read this post on indie author Serena Diosa’s The Beginnings of Tinkey’s Goldfish Facebook page, I remembered an event from 1997 that didn’t seem particularly life-transforming on the surface.
However, as it happened, I felt an odd “shift” in myself. I recognized it as such, although I didn’t know at the time where it would lead me.
This is what happened: The pastor at the church where I belonged at the time asked me to accompany him to a three-day young adult ministry conference in Chicago. He could only stay for the first day. I was to attend break-out sessions all three days and submit a report, which would be forwarded to our bishop.
While it sounds like no big deal, it really was. I had not done anything like this since college, and I was thirty-six. I was married to my first husband and was raising and homeschooling six children between the ages of two and fifteen. I had not even had a proper vacation since I lived under my parent’s roof because money was so scarce.
Not until day two of the conference had ended, and I was checking into my hotel room did I realize I had never spent the night in a hotel without my family. Before I headed down to dinner, I kicked off my shoes, turned on some music, and literally reveled in the unseen change that had entered my life. Something was going to happen; I just knew it.
I enjoyed a nice dinner (accompanied by St. John of the Ladder’s The Ladder of Perfection, which I had always wanted to read) and spent the following day taking notes, meeting people, and networking with others in my denomination. On the last morning, I had breakfast with one of the session leaders.
Shortly thereafter, this same priest taught me the basics of writing on a computer (I didn’t own one) and assigned me stories for the diocesan newspaper. I was already writing two free columns a month for the local newspaper, and I do mean writing. I didn’t even own a typewriter anymore, but the opinion page editor liked my work (writing the columns was his idea), and I figured it was good experience.
Six months later, I was a single parent and writing for that newspaper. My resume? A happy fan who was also the manager at the newspaper's distribution center from where I delivered newspapers and clips from those columns and church newspaper.
Yet, when I read this post on indie author Serena Diosa’s The Beginnings of Tinkey’s Goldfish Facebook page, I remembered an event from 1997 that didn’t seem particularly life-transforming on the surface.
However, as it happened, I felt an odd “shift” in myself. I recognized it as such, although I didn’t know at the time where it would lead me.
This is what happened: The pastor at the church where I belonged at the time asked me to accompany him to a three-day young adult ministry conference in Chicago. He could only stay for the first day. I was to attend break-out sessions all three days and submit a report, which would be forwarded to our bishop.
While it sounds like no big deal, it really was. I had not done anything like this since college, and I was thirty-six. I was married to my first husband and was raising and homeschooling six children between the ages of two and fifteen. I had not even had a proper vacation since I lived under my parent’s roof because money was so scarce.
Not until day two of the conference had ended, and I was checking into my hotel room did I realize I had never spent the night in a hotel without my family. Before I headed down to dinner, I kicked off my shoes, turned on some music, and literally reveled in the unseen change that had entered my life. Something was going to happen; I just knew it.
I enjoyed a nice dinner (accompanied by St. John of the Ladder’s The Ladder of Perfection, which I had always wanted to read) and spent the following day taking notes, meeting people, and networking with others in my denomination. On the last morning, I had breakfast with one of the session leaders.
Shortly thereafter, this same priest taught me the basics of writing on a computer (I didn’t own one) and assigned me stories for the diocesan newspaper. I was already writing two free columns a month for the local newspaper, and I do mean writing. I didn’t even own a typewriter anymore, but the opinion page editor liked my work (writing the columns was his idea), and I figured it was good experience.
Six months later, I was a single parent and writing for that newspaper. My resume? A happy fan who was also the manager at the newspaper's distribution center from where I delivered newspapers and clips from those columns and church newspaper.
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